


A Shared Bottle

by Merfilly



Category: Forever Knight
Genre: Anniversary, Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-27
Updated: 2010-01-27
Packaged: 2017-10-14 15:04:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/150540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nicholas remembers her death day with a gift</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Shared Bottle

Nick made his way inside the club close to dawn, carrying a bottle of wine, as well as a painting that was carefully covered. He was thankful his shift had ended early enough to allow him to make it, even if she was bound to be piqued already when technically he should have been there the night prior.

Better late than never, and what was a few hours to a nigh-immortal anyway?

"So you come here with no time to go home? What if I were to throw you out? Would you sleep in the trunk of that behemoth you keep?" Janette demanded by way of greeting for him, but her eyes flicked to the covered painting, then to the bottle.

"Possibly. Or perhaps it would wound me so deeply I'd risk a good smoking by sitting in the doorway under the awning," Nick said, light and flippant. "I'm sorry I didn't make it in earlier, Janette." He set the painting on a barstool, carefully propping it up to protect it from falling.

She eyed him, then the painting again, curiosity at war with her very nettled frame of mind. She finally sighed at him and shook her head.

"Nikki, what am I to do with you?" she asked him in a loving, teasing exasperation.

"Nothing too violent, I hope," he played back to her, before setting the wine down and walking around to get two goblets.

"That depends on just how maudlin your deathday gift to me is," Janette said in an arch tone.

"Maudlin? Me?" Nick asked in an innocent tone of voice. He then laughed, somewhat at her look, somewhat at his own attempt. "I know, I know. I get in moods."

"Nicholas, a mood is for a woman, and lasts a few nights at most. You, my dear, have set a climate for yourself that has lasted over a century."

"I have my moments," Nick protested, but she was right. He did not want to dwell on it tonight, though. Not this night, not her night.

She took the bottle and the goblets rather than continue that trend of conversation. Nick watched her pour the deep red liquid, and was pleased he did not have to keep her from overfilling his goblet past his comfort level. Then again, she'd witnessed his binging and knew the effect it would have.

"To Janette, beautiful raven of the night," Nick told her in toast, raising his goblet to her.

"If I did not know better, Nikki, I'd guess that you wished something of me," Janette said, pausing in the midst of taking her first sip in order to scrutinize his face.

"Only your happiness this night," he replied, qualifying it in such a way that perhaps she would not start the age-old argument over what her happiness's cost was, in regards to him.

"The night is all but over," she pointed out.

"Then perhaps you should open your gift," he told her, smiling as he set his goblet down. She inclined her head, setting her own goblet down to move around him to the painting. Delicate fingers undid the twine keeping the paper around it, before she swept it away to view the canvas.

A smile touched her lips, to see a portrait not just of herself, but of Nicholas standing behind her, posed as if if they had stood together for the painter, his hands around her waist, holding her close.

"Now I will always have you?" she questioned him, her eyes coming to rest on his.

"A memory of better times, to comfort you," Nick offered.

She looked at it again, looked at the shadows beyond the couple in the portrait, and her eyes sketched out the third that should be there. Whether he intended it or not, the texturing did lend itself to the illusion of _his_ presence.

"Merci," she murmured, before turning back to her wine. Complicated and messy as they were, the painting was one more token of the fact Nicholas would never truly be free of them.


End file.
